Two Poems, an Epitaph Perhaps?

The Realists, W.B. Yeats

Hope that you may understand!
What can books of men that wive
In a dragon-guarded land,
Paintings of the dolphin-drawn
Sea-nymphs in their pearly wagons
Do, but awake a hope to live
That had gone
With the dragons?


Reality Check, T. Poindexter

Just because it’s floating
In the ether of my eye
Doesn’t negate its bearing
Or give it status as a lie
Just because it’s burning
Deep within my heart
Doesn’t mean it’s failing
At being really vibrant art
On the contrary darling, there’s nothing you can really see
Or feel, that hasn’t at its beginning its being in the ether
Of the eye or the burning of the heart.
Yes, everything’s invisible
At the very start.

Scene 1

Scene 1
(digging in trash, other bums to the side)

Intro Banter (jesse) before Discovery

…

Daniel: what? what’s this? (wiping trash away)

Philmon(?): look at ol’ Dan, he must be dreamin’ again—that dumpster’s never had any food.

Hobo 2: It’s a wonder he hasn’t been hit by a car yet.

Daniel: (murmuring) This is quite an interesting bit of rubbish; carvings all over it, peculiar yet magnificent wood, and a strange sort of iron; I’ve never seen its like, this was the cane of Imhotep himself.

Philmon: Hey! What have you got there, a twisted old stick? You can’t eat that.

Haikus from Saturday Night (OG)

1
A glass lies broken
It’s not my fault I swear
Look, he seems guilty

2
One cut with a fork
Bleeding marinara sauce
Is it what you think?

blurred lines

the assault of the establishment has already begun, it just needs to be transcribed.